


Broken Soul

by kmsquill



Series: Antarctic Empire and Ranboo [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Anarctic Empire, Angst, Blood for the Blood Titan, BooTWT, Dadza, Hearing Voices, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Panic Attacks, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Repression, dadza and ranboo angst? yes fight me, mild violence, sleepytwt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmsquill/pseuds/kmsquill
Summary: Phil is a hardened old soul, almost darkened to the core. It started decaying immediately when he was forced to kill his own son in front of everyone the day he joined. He did a good job at hiding how dark his soul had become.But he could only handle so much before his soul fully decayed and he snapped himself.//TW: DEPICTION OF PANIC ATTACKS, vulgar language, mild violence//
Series: Antarctic Empire and Ranboo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099907
Comments: 12
Kudos: 280
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Broken Soul

**Author's Note:**

> ok ok listen after reading my last piece im actually ok with it. THIS one feels more scuffed and idk if i like it LMFAOOO
> 
> but let me know what you guys think! needed to provide some angst since we've lacked a little in the past few days hehe
> 
> TW: DEPICTION OF PANIC ATTACKS, vulgar language, mild violence

Phil was a hardened soul, full of much more darkness than people expected. He lived through so many tragedies, especially on this server. He was there, of course, to kill his own son and watch the second fall of L’Manburg. He was there on the sidelines, watching from afar as his other son decayed in exile and isolation. He helped his _other_ son blow up L’Manburg one more time; a final symphony to end it all and send it into its eternal grave.

He could feel those same memories echoing in his mind now as the events from today occupied his mind. Ghostbur willing Phil to kill him once more, but jumping back and forth between wanting the second death and wanting to stay in his ghost form. The ghostly form pleaded with Phil, whispering like a haunting chill, _“I don’t want to go, Phil…”_

Even after the whispers and the encouragement that eventually led Ghostbur to agree to Phil killing him, they didn’t succeed. Instead, they got what supposedly was the potential merging of Wilbur’s ghost and Schlatt’s ghost, the dictator everyone swore not to be like. Phil hadn’t met him face to face before his death, but he heard about his stories from Techno that he wasn’t a pleasant man. 

Obviously, with that potential side effect in mind, their plan definitely did not work how they wanted to and was put to a pause until they were certain they had it right.

After calling out Eret for not taking all precautions into consideration and finally getting him to agree that they needed a totem to pull the resurrection off, they set off on a journey that was at least a bit more enjoyable with Ranboo, Eret, and Tubbo following in his steps to a faraway woodland mansion. It was amusing to see how excited Ranboo was at committing arson after they completed a successful heist, taking down the mansion and claiming at least four totems of undying in total with two at least going to Ranboo. 

After the long trek back home, he watched Tubbo wave and head off. Eret followed them for a little bit before leaving as well, but Phil could still feel his unnerving blank stare on their backs as he was denied further access to their cabin. 

It wasn’t Phil’s fault; it was Eret’s for being a king, for Christ’s sake. Didn’t matter if he agreed to “little bits of anarchy”; he was still a goddamn king. Crown or no crown. 

It still made Phil crackle with anger as he thought about it, fuming to himself as he glared at an empty corner in their room. Ranboo had gone off to his little spot, apparently wanting more maps for more totems, leaving Phil alone in the house while Techno was gone. It was nighttime now, the darkness cloaking everything in shadows with mobs grunting outside.

Phil let out another long breath, his fists curling as he stared at the books at the opposite end of the room. They sat in the glowing purple light of the enchantment table, a few pages flipped open from books that he observed before the resurrection. 

Phil could still feel anger crackling in his veins. He was never one to outwardly express a lot of emotion, but he couldn’t keep the thought of Ghostbur out of his head. The whole ritual had been fucking scuffed. He should have known better than to trust Eret; for fuck’s sake, he had been the traitor Wilbur hated. Eret should have done the proper research Phil had done and gotten a totem beforehand. Poor Ranboo was dragged into it despite not being a part of it at all. And then of all things, _Tommy_ had shown up. Tommy, the son that had betrayed him and Techno for his supposed “friend” that had exiled him. He showed up to the resurrection with a blank expression, his breathing quickening as he watched Phil stab Ghostbur again, insulted him after it didn’t succeed, then promptly left without looking back.

Phil, once again, was not a man who expressed his emotions willingly.

But stabbing Ghostbur two times to get negative results and having to see Tommy again after his whole betrayal just for him to degrade his father really fucking pissed him off.

Phil stormed towards the book, his fingers stiff as he gripped the pages and pinned the book down on the lectern it sat upon. His eyes flicked over the pages, seeing the Totem of Undying images, and more angry heat crackled in his veins.

 _So scuffed,_ he seethed internally. _So fucking scuffed. We should have made sure it was correct before doing the whole thing. We shouldn’t have trusted Eret at all._

_We should’ve made sure things were correct before I was forced to fucking killed my son again._

A shrill tearing noise sounded in his ears as Phil ripped up the pages in the book, the edges of his eyes rimmed red with his rage. He crumpled up the pages, throwing them into the corner before picking up the whole book and launching it into the corner. It landed with a heavy thud against the back of the bookshelf, a few books trembling before falling over on top of it.

Phil was breathing heavy, but he felt far from done. He reached forward, grabbing a few more books and launching them into the corner. They were all on different topics; resurrection, government, weapon mechanics, TNT information. Everything that Phil had been a part of when he joined was stored in these books, all the information he wanted and needed had been provided.

But of course it was useless now.

Phil continued throwing them one by one, listening to the loud thuds as they hit the wall. _All of these were so fucking useless. They still created a government. They still think they were in the right despite all of the destruction. They still think we’re the bad guys._

_They took my fucking sons away. They turned Tommy against us, his own family._

_“You’re a bad guy, Philza,”_ Tommy had said at the ritual, his gaze broken but full of rage. 

_As if I had a fucking choice!_ Phil yelled internally, another book being launched into the corner, his lips curled as he let out a few yells with each throw. His arms were starting to grow sore, but he ignored it and replaced it with the heated rage still coiling in his veins.

_He made me kill him! I killed him while he was still human, then I was the one who had to kill him when he was already fucking dead to try and revive him! You didn’t even make plans to be there for him!_

_You betrayed Techno! You betrayed me! You sent the entire server into hell with your ridiculous behavior! You had no right to even fucking be there!_

More clattering thudded through the room as he mixed the pile with other belongings. Items that he had sectioned off that had been Tommy’s were now tossed into the pile, along with spare clothes that he had provided. Small pictures and other miscellaneous items from Tommy’s stay had been tossed into the pile as well, crumpled and destroyed. All of it lumped into the corner like a wounded dog, sagging low under Phil’s glare.

_Why wouldn’t you listen? Why wouldn’t you realize we would have kept you safe? We would have fought off the world for you!_

Phil could feel the stinging of tears in his eyes as he stared at the pile, fists clenched as he let his rage and sorrows pour over him. But he bit down against the sobs in his throat. He wasn’t going to give Tommy that glory, no matter how broken he was feeling.

_Why does my own son force me to be against him? Why do my own son force me to fucking kill him?_

_Why can’t I save them?_

Phil wanted to smash more things. He wanted to rip the books open, deep into their core, and throw their life’s work into the pile to let it rot. It was all useless; it was all so fucking useless if it couldn’t help save him or his family. He turned away, clenching his chest and slamming his eyes shut for a moment. Looking at it all would only make him more sick. 

As he opened his eyes again, however, a glint caught Phil’s eye in the corner of the room.

His head tilted slowly to follow the glint, and his heartbeat seized in his chest for a moment. Sitting above the fireplace where it had been commonly used to light the fire was a spare flint and steel. The moon had graciously given a beam to let the iron gleam and catch Phil’s attention, luring him in.

For a moment, everything stopped. The anger burning off of him suddenly fizzled away, and all of the memories paused for a moment, looming over him and waiting to see what he would do. Phil’s breath was the only noise now, staggering in his chest as he stared at the weapon.

Finally, to break the silent facade, he took a step forward. It was a quiet ripple in the surface of stillness, slowly breaking as his feet took him towards the flint and steel. He reached forward with shaking fingers, securing them around the cold steel and the flaking flint chipped away.

As he lifted it up, one voice finally chimed in his mind. It was only a whisper, but it was so familiar that it made Phil’s body numb over with horror.

_Blood for the Blood Titan._

A knock came from outside the doors.

It startled Phil into dropping the flint and steel, wincing as the metal clattered against the floor. His breathing resumed at the same hoarse rate, stuttering in his chest silently as he turned to stare at the wooden doors.

“Phil?” A voice called from outside, deep and worried. “Are you okay in there? I… I heard some clattering from outside. Just wanted to check and make sure everything was alright.”

Phil couldn’t respond for a moment, still trying to regain his bearings. The voice had faded, but his ears were still ringing and his heart had started to pound into his ears. He reached down and scooped up the igniter, looking around for a moment before crossing the room and tucking it under his pillow on the bed. He made up his bed and regained control of his breathing before moving towards the doors.

He opened them up, standing face to face with Ranboo. The boy was hunching over, but he still towered over Phil’s short and stocky frame with his enderman genes. His eyes glowed in the darkness, the contrasting green and red hues filled with the same worried curiosity. Snow was falling gently around him, pelting his hat and making him shiver.

When Phil met his eyes, Ranboo’s long ears perked up and he smiled weakly. “Oh, hello! Glad to see you’re in one piece!”

“Yeah,” Phil confirmed, but his voice sounded much more blunt than he wanted. He forced a smile onto his tight face. “How can I help you?”

“Uh…” Ranboo hesitated for a long moment, his eyes traveling over Phil. With a small wave of alarm, Phil could see the curious look turn into intense focus. 

_This kid is a lot smarter than he lets in. I can’t let him see through me._

While they stared at each other for a moment, Ranboo smiled and straightened up a little, Phil’s neck craning to look up at him. “Sorry. I was actually curious if you had any… Any books on maps and such. Woodland mansions… Maybe more info on Totems of Undying.”

 _Shit._ Phil’s heart pulsed, clenching in his chest as he forced himself to smile once more and step aside. “Sure. Of course. Come in. I’ll see what I can find.”

Ranboo ducked his head to enter the room, Phil closing the door behind him and almost immediately heading over to the books to cover the corner with the ripped up pile. He took off his large cape and draped it over, glancing quickly over at Ranboo and feeling a quick wave of relief as he saw his eyes traveling elsewhere as he sat down on the bed.

Phil moved along his shelves, pretending to peruse the options while he kept an eye on the boy. But when Ranboo turned to look at him, he quickly returned his gaze to the books as Ranboo asked in what seemed to be a normal tone, “What have you been up to tonight?”

“Oh, you know,” Phil replied ambiguously, his fingers running over the velvety backs of the books around him. They felt smoothe and intact, much more so than the ripped ones on the floor behind him. “Books. Reading.”

“Mhm…” Ranboo hummed, his eyes scorching the soft fuzz on Phil’s cheek. “Reading, I see. What have you been reading up on?”

“Just…” Phil paused for a moment, but then chimed, “Totem of Undying stuff, actually. What we talked about with Eret earlier today.”

“Right,” Ranboo confirmed, Phil repressing a jolt of surprise as he heard the bed creak under Ranboo’s shifting weight. He let himself glance over, seeing Ranboo’s tail sway gently across the floor as he continued to study Phil with a polite and curious gaze. “What about them, specifically? Like how they just work and stuff?”

“Yes,” Phil replied almost immediately, latching onto the easy answer Ranboo had provided. “Seeing how they work… Um, how they would work with…”

A memory from today sparked in his mind again; a pained whisper in the back of his head from a terrified ghost. _“I don’t want to go.”_

Phil swallowed, gripping the shelf underneath him to steady himself. “You know. The resurrection stuff.”

“I see.” Ranboo adjusted himself on the bed again, the faint creaking noise filling in the silence. There was another beat of silence before Ranboo chuckled, folding his arms around himself. “No fire tonight?”

For a second, Phil was startled into shock that Ranboo might have figured him out. But when Phil looked over at him, he saw the hybrid’s eyes flick over to the empty fireplace in the corner, sitting still in the dark.

“Oh.” Phil let out an uneasy breath, smiling weakly. “Yeah, yeah. It just feels… Stifling, I suppose.”

“Stifling?” Ranboo questioned, and Phil cursed internally at himself for a moment. He couldn’t let him see at all what Phil was feeling; how stifling the heat truly felt when he got stuck into his own mind.

Dangerous images of books on fire filled his mind again, and he waved off the figurative smoke it was emitting. “Just, ah… Sometimes a bit much, y’know?”

“Right…” Ranboo trailed, studying him again. “A bit too much heat in the middle of the tundra.”

Phil flinched, and he let out an uneasy laugh as he turned to face him with a nervous grin. “Aye, sometimes it can overheat in here. It’s why I took off my cape.”

Ranboo studied Phil in his ripped white tunic for a long moment before his eyes slowly moved to the corner of the room where the cape was draped. Most of the books were covered, but a few ripped pieces and crumpled pages stuck out on the floor. Phil swore internally once more, a few strains of panic starting to course through his body. _Don’t question it._

Ranboo let out a quiet hum before looking back over at Phil, offering with a small smile, “Doing some cleaning too, I see? Is that why the corner is so messy?”

“Yes…” Phil trailed for a moment before laughing, sounding too loud in his ears. “Yes, yes! Cleaning! It’s treacherous in here; sorry for the mess.”

“No worries,” Ranboo assured with a chuckle, his claws slowly brushing the sheets under him. He shivered again, giving Phil another weak smile. “Is it alright if we do light a fire, though? Still kind of cold from, y’know… Being outside in my little area.”

“Right, right,” Phil sympathized, walking over to the logs and starting to adjust them. “That definitely makes sense. Of course we can.” He paused for a moment, a strong stab of guilt in his chest as he glanced back at him. “Sorry about that, actually. You shouldn’t have to sleep out there in the cold.”

“Oh, don’t worry!” Ranboo assured with a small laugh. “It’s alright, truly. I sleep in the dog house sometimes for warmth, but other times… The cold isn’t horrible, I suppose.”

Phil could feel multiple waves of guilt now pulsing through him, and his hands started moving quicker to set up the fire. “I’m sorry, Ranboo. You know you’re always welcome in here though, right?”

“I know,” Ranboo assured him once more, but his voice was subdued under his weak smile. “It’s alright, truly. I never want to impose.”

“You never do,” Phil mumbled, but it was muffled as he continued studying the shelves around the fireplace for a moment with a frown. “Sorry, shit, this is almost ready. Where is the-?”

“I think you’re looking for this,” Ranboo spoke up, Phil jumping as he realized the voice was right behind him. When he turned, he felt his blood turn cold as he saw the item he was looking for in Ranboo’s hands.

The flint and steel. The one he had hidden under the pillow.

Phil felt his throat close up as he stared down at it, his fingers shaking a little. Silence stretched into the room for a moment as Ranboo asked slowly, “Phil, why was this under your pillow?”

Phil couldn’t respond; there was a red tint slowly filling around the edges of his eyes again as he stared down at it. His pulse was back in his ears, drumming along with another faint whisper starting in the back of his head. He slowly reached up for the flint and steel in Ranboo’s grasp, his hand moving in slow motion.

Ranboo stepped back away from him, and Phil was startled out of his trance for a moment by the movement. As he looked up, Ranboo’s face was stern and concerned. His voice was wavering slightly but full of force as he repeated, “Phil, why was this under your pillow?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Phil droned, his muscles starting to tense up. “It must have been misplaced somehow.” He reached out again, reaching for the glinting steel. “Hand it over; I can start the fire for you.”

“Phil,” Ranboo cut in, his voice hollowing out. He turned his body to the side away from Phil’s reach, his gaze turning slightly panicked. “Why was this under your pillow, Phil? It’s not… Usually there. Why were you hiding it?”

“I wasn’t hiding it!” Phil tried to play off, but Ranboo continued away from him towards the corner of the room where his cape was. Stiffening in shock, Phil started towards him. “Ranboo, wait-”

Ranboo reached down, whipping the cape off and revealing the shredded pieces of paper and other goods hunched in the corner. Phil felt his panic rise as Ranboo stared down at it for a moment before looking back up, meeting Phil’s gaze for a long moment before speaking curtly, “Cleaning, huh? Did your cleaning involve setting things on fire?”

“Ranboo-” Phil tried, but the boy leaned down and picked up one of the crumpled pages, flattening it up against the wall since his other hand was still cupping the flint and steel. The page ruffled out, and Phil felt his breath waver again.

The page was a sketched picture, one that had been crafted with so much care but was now ruined with tears and wrinkles. Three figures were centered in the piece, one beaming with a bright grin as an arm looped around the figure next to him, who was smiling tiredly. The other figure was hovering above them all, smiling warmly. Three pairs of familiar eyes, one as noble as the boldest rubies and the other as chilling as the arctic sea while the one above them was faint but shining with the most life he had ever seen.

Three pairs of eyes that seared Phil’s soul, his throat getting choked up and his eyes starting to water again. The three pairs of eyes of boys that he cared so much about.

“Phil…” Ranboo finally spoke up in the silence, Phil barely hearing him. His voice was shaking, full of confusion. “What were you going to do to this, Phil?”

Phil was silent, his fingers curling into shaking fists as he bit his lip tightly to the point he could now taste the iron sting of blood on his tongue. His panic slowly faded, leaving room for rage as the hums in the back of his brain slowly grew louder. _It doesn’t matter anymore. None of this matters. They don’t care anymore. All of this is fucking pointless._

“Phil?” Ranboo tried again, his tone now filled with worry as he stood beside the pile, his fingers still pinning up the photo under him.

“Give me the fucking flint, Ranboo,” Phil ordered, his voice cold. “Give it to me and get out.”

Ranboo flinched, the words stinging. He studied Phil for a long moment, backing up a few steps when Phil took a few stalking steps towards him slowly. Ranboo’s breath seemed to quicken, but he held his ground as his jaw tightened and he refuted, “No. Phil, tell me what you were going to do.”

Phil’s breathing had labored again, the red ring around his vision thickening. They centered around Ranboo, pinning him in the center as a perfect target. _Blood for the Blood Titan._ “Give me the fucking igniter, Ranboo.”

“No!” Ranboo protested, his voice cracking. “Phil, stay back! What’s going on?”

“Get out of here, Ranboo!” Phil snarled, his voice rising. He took a few steps to the side, grabbing his netherite sword, and Ranboo’s expression paled. Phil ignored the terrified expression, his grip on the sword secured as he glared at him. “Ranboo, give me the flint and steel and step away. This doesn’t involve you.”

“It involves me when it could potentially harm you and set the entire cabin on fire!” Ranboo protested, dropping the picture and now clutching the flint and steel in both of his hands. “What’s going on, Phil? Tell me what’s happening!”

“Give it to me!” Phil shouted, his grip tightening around his sword as he raced forward. Ranboo let out a frightened shout, ducking and racing away as Phil swung his sword, the end getting impaled into the wood as he swung and missed. 

Phil yanked it out of the wall, swinging it around again and knocking a few books off of their shelves again. He heard the scampering of Ranboo through the shelves, his shoulder shoving the shelves as he hissed with fury and stalked after him.

“Get out of here, Ranboo!” Phil hissed, walking through the shelves until he saw Ranboo back in the main room near the fireplace, ducking his head to stare at Phil with horror. Phil whipped around, racing towards him with a shout. “Get the fuck out of here!”

Ranboo visibly gritted his teeth, waiting for a moment until he jumped to the side, one of his long legs reaching out and tripping Phil. Phil’s face met the wooden ground, banging painfully and sending crackling pain through his nose and forehead. He heard something clatter to the side before a foot was stomping aggressively down on his wrist, dislodging his grip on his sword as his wrist was swarmed with spasms of pain.

Phil was flipped around on his back with a sudden jolt, Ranboo pressing a knee onto his chest to destabilize him while he held Phil’s sword in an unwieldy grip. He stared at it for a moment before tossing it to the side, his claws pressing down on Phil’s chest now instead.

Phil’s lungs were starting to feel compressed, but the rage still pounded through his veins as he glared up at him. He thrashed around, reaching up towards Ranboo’s arms and trying to shove them away. “Let go of me, Ranboo!”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on!” Ranboo cried, his grip going to his arms to pin them down. “Phil, you need to calm down and talk to me!”

“I can’t fucking calm down with you pinning me to the floor!” Phil snapped, trying and failing to push up against him. He may be a bit more slender, but he was fucking strong.

“Phil, please!” Ranboo pleaded, his eyes pained as he stared down at Phil. “Come back to me, Phil!”

“I’m right here, you shit!” Phil denied with a hiss, struggling against him.

Ranboo hesitated for a long moment before finally letting him go, scrambling off of him as Phil struggled to his feet. His breaths came out in wheezes, the compressions restraining him as he glared harshly at the boy who was now quivering as he cowered away from him. The red rim around his eyes was still pounding, the voices loud in his head now. _Blood for the Blood Titan, Blood for the Blood Titan._

 _Shut up, shut up!_ Phil let out a pained cry, pressing his hands against his head and slamming his eyes shut. Too many things were now pounding in his head, beating drums of loud noise that occupied every inch of space. Frustrated tears now leaked from his eyes, choking sobs building up in his throat.

_Get them out, get them out! Get the fuck outta my head!_

There was a sudden grip on his hands, gentle but grounding. Phil’s eyes opened, Ranboo’s form slowly appearing through the cloudiness. He looked as anxious as Phil felt, but his eyes were firmly set on his.

“Phil,” Ranboo choked out gently. “Both... Both of us need to calm down. Please listen to me. Breathe with me, please. C-count with me.”

Phil blinked rapidly, his chest feeling too tight to even think about breathing. The voices were still so loud in his head, snarling at him in rage and almost making his limbs twitch with impulsive action. _I need to shut them up first; I can’t even think about breathing until they shut up._

But something in Ranboo’s frantic gaze compelled him to at least try. Phil nodded shakily, exhaling before starting to inhale along with Ranboo.

“One, two…” Ranboo counted, the numbers appearing in Phil’s head as he closed his eyes, focusing on his breaths. He could hear Ranboo across from him, his own wavering breath echoing beside his. It was shaky at first, Phil almost giving up entirely, but Ranboo would continue and therefore encourage Phil to follow his lead. There were a few moments where one of them stumbled on their counting or had uneven breaths, but the other waited for them to get back on track before continuing. 

As his thoughts focused on his breathing, he could feel the voices slowly fade into the back of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting the numbers take over and drown out everything else. _One, two..._

Eventually, their breathing had slowly calmed to a much normal pace that made him feel much more stable and grounded. The red around his vision slowly faded away, as well as the voices that had been in his mind. It was relieving; he could feel the pressure headaches slowly dull, leaving only a gentle throb near the top of his head.

Phil rubbed his head with a small groan before rubbing his face. His voice was ragged now from his yelling, gentle pulses of pain occasionally encircling his throat. “Shit. That wasn’t fun.”

“It definitely wasn’t,” Ranboo agreed quietly, slowly sitting back and folding his legs up. His arms wrapped around his legs as well, his tail slowly curling around his ankles as he closed his eyes.

Phil stared at him for a long moment, his feelings finally rushing in and swamping him in guilt. He reached for Ranboo, his voice cracking again as he whispered, “Ranboo… I’m so fucking sorry. That… I don’t know why I acted like that.”

He flinched, the voices leaving remnants in his mind as he admitted, “Well, okay, I sort of do, but…”

“Phil…” Ranboo spoke up again, hesitating before opening his eyes to meet Phil’s once more. He looked worn out, exhaustion weighing on his eyelids, but his face was again now filled with concern. “What happened? Why... Why did that happen?"

Ranboo paused before looking away, his lip quivering slightly. "If… If you can explain. Please.”

The guilt that consumed Phil made it easier for him to want to admit everything. He had acted like a piece of shit; he owed Ranboo an explanation in the least. As he swallowed thickly, he rubbed his head for a moment before exhaling. “I… I was just so caught up in what happened today. With Ghostbur.”

“The failed ritual?” Ranboo asked softly. “With having to kill him again?”

“Yes,” Phil whispered, his throat tightening again. “The fact that it didn’t work. The fact that Eret, the traitor he despised, set it up should’ve shown it was scuffed as hell. Tommy showing up as well didn’t help.”

“Yeah…” Ranboo trailed off, letting out a breath slowly. “It was… Weird for me, admittedly.” He shook his head, his gaze clouding over. “I can’t imagine what reliving that was like.”

“Horrible,” Phil summed up bluntly, his eyes sagging with the weight of everything. He sat back, his arm resting on one leg folded up and the other resting on the floor. “It was fucking horrible, to say in the least.”

He laughed weakly, rubbing his face. “While the woodland mansion adventure was fun, I just couldn’t stop thinking about Ghostbur… About everything. I suppose it just got to me, building up and shit with so many voices in my head until I just fucking snapped.”

Another wave of guilt passed through him, weighing him down again as he murmured, “And I took it out on you. Which was fucking horrible. You didn't deserve that. I'm so sorry I yelled at you. I’m so sorry, Ranboo.”

Ranboo was quiet for a moment, registering everything that Phil had said. When his eyes cleared again, he asked Phil gently, “Voices in your head, Phil? You hear them too? Are they like Techno’s?”

Phil stiffened, not realizing that he had let that slip out. Seeing as he couldn't lie out of it now, he let out a ragged sigh, nodding a little. “They’re not as bad. They’ve gotten quieter; I’ve gotten better at repressing them and haven’t let them… Fester, I suppose."

He shook his head, trying to elaborate, “I’ve repressed them at a more severe rate than Techno has. Techno leans into them while I repress them. It’s not like Techno wants to, though. It’s more of an impulse for him; he doesn’t care and depends on them, in a way.” He drooped, sighing again. “If that makes sense. I don’t fucking know.”

“No, no,” Ranboo confirmed, nodding. “I… I see it. It definitely makes sense.” He visibly drooped as well, looking slightly pained and, to Phil’s surprise, guilty. “I didn’t realize you dealt with voices like that too.”

“It’s not common that they come in.” Phil assured, shifting his weight. “I’m alright.”

“Are you?” Ranboo whispered, blinking round and watery eyes at him. “Phil, you… You look so exhausted. You look like you've been in so much pain. You must’ve been keeping so much in to let it all out so violently.”

Phil went silent, the callout stinging in his chest like a mild bee sting. It reminded him of a similar talk he had with Techno so long ago, the anarchist only shrugging and saying it was a part of his nature before blocking him out for the rest of the night as a response. _Perhaps closing everyone out is genetic too._

Despite how Phil felt, however, he couldn’t deny it when Ranboo was right. He smiled weakly at the hybrid. “I don’t talk about feelings and shit a lot, Ranboo. I live with Techno; it's not a common thing to talk about them. I’m unfortunately not that type to get all mushy and-”

“I don’t care,” Ranboo cut in, his voice cracking. Tears were now lidding in his eyes, his whole form shaking. “Phil, I don’t care if you don’t talk about feelings on the daily. But I don’t want to see that happen again.”

Phil felt his throat swell up once more in emotion, staring at the trembling hybrid across from him. Ranboo looked back up at him, his face starting to show a melted appearance that reminded Phil of his panic attack in his panic room days before. Through the tightness in his throat, he managed to struggle out, “I’m sorry I did that to you, Ranboo. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Ranboo shook his head rapidly, suddenly lunging forward. Phil was startled, scooting back a little, but long arms wrapped around his waist and Ranboo’s face buried in Phil’s shoulder. He was trembling still, his soft hair brushing Phil’s cheek as he whispered, “I don't care about that. Please… Phil, please talk to me or someone about what you’re feeling. I just don’t want to see that happen to you again. I don’t want you to hear those voices. I…”

Ranboo broke off with a soft hiccup, but then admitted weakly, “You’re the only father-like figure I’ve had. You make me feel safe. You’ve saved me from my own voices. I… I want to be here for you too. I don’t want you to succumb to them.”

“I won’t,” Phil assured him softly, but Ranboo burrowed into him more, his claws digging into Phil’s back. It was a little painful, but the fact that he was clinging to him this tightly showed how much Ranboo had been affected. Phil’s arms slowly wrapped around Ranboo, his hands resting near the back of his shoulder blades. 

“Please don’t just say that to me to make me feel better,” Ranboo whispered again, his voice scratchy now with his sobs. “Please promise me you’ll talk to someone. I can’t lose you.”

 _I can’t lose you._ Phil felt his chest seize up, and he closed his eyes before clutching Ranboo’s back in a tight grip similar to the one Ranboo had on him. He pulled the boy closer, letting his own tears soak Ranboo’s shoulder as the boy burrowed his head and quietly sobbed into his chest. Phil’s fingers were trembling, but one of his hands slowly reached up and stroked Ranboo’s hair to help soothe him. 

It was too familiar, his hand combing through the hair of a boy in his grasp. The last time he had done this, the boy he was coddling had died in his arms after demanding to be killed. It was a boy so tired of living, he wanted his own father to take him out of the world he had destroyed, therefore starting the decay of Phil’s soul.

But this was different.

It was a boy trying to live and trying to keep him safe. A boy he unintentionally saved from the same fate he and Techno suffered from. A boy who cared about him so much more than he thought. 

Even though he couldn't promise to Ranboo outwardly at the moment that he would be better, he swore it to himself internally. _I promise. I'm never going to threaten you or do that to you again._ His grip tightened around the boy, hoping he would get the message. In response, Ranboo gripped him back and continued to burrow into him, letting Phil hold him close and rub his back as they sat on the floor.

 _He’s not my son,_ Phil whispered to himself. _And yet he cares much more about me than Tommy ever did. He’s not using me or Techno for anything. He genuinely cares about us._

Phil had a broken part of his soul that he was sure could never recover. 

It was the part that was corrupted the day he joined the server; the day he was forced to kill his son and follow another into isolation and anarchy. It was the part that darkened each time he watched Tommy suffer alone but was practically rotten to the core when Tommy left them and called Techno a horrible person during the massacre, chewing him out despite Techno’s protests. It twisted and destroyed himself even more every time he saw Ghostbur, the figment of what his son used to be floating around and smiling warmly at Phil as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

It was the part of his soul that knew he was a horrible father. That he knew he could never truly save his sons and bring them together again. 

Yet as he continued to sink into the dark of his own demise, Ranboo had arrived. Ranboo felt like a light; a small beacon of hope that anchored Phil’s corrupted soul. The boy was so similar to Phil in certain ways; he was thrown into everything when he joined and was suffering mentally after everything happened without him being able to stop it.

He was smarter than everyone around him. He was a voice of reason and peace that everyone ignored. All he wanted to do was save his friends, but instead was traumatized and ostracized as a result. He had to watch the only place he had called a home be destroyed into nothing. 

But when he was offered a new home, he took it graciously and paid it back. He never took anything without permission, he helped Phil out with projects in the tundra, he gave them new and enjoyable company.

In all of the darkness that this damn server was to Phil, Ranboo was the last bit of light left in his soul along with Techno. He was a boy that took the affectionate touches Phil slipped out with gratitude. A boy that was always happy to go on long adventures with Phil, laughing and sticking by his side. A boy that gave him hope, joy, and love once more.

A boy that Phil would gladly give his life for if it meant he would be okay.

A boy that made him still feel like he had a chance to be a good father again.

**Author's Note:**

> so... long....  
> if you finished it all, thank you LMAO
> 
> comments, kudos, and shares are greatly appreciated! <3


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